Gentle Reader,
The title says it all.
Actually, it sounds like the title of some modern art piece, the sort that I can never figure out.
The anger came in waves today, in tandem with the nausea. So that was awesome. One of the first things I got angry about today was my husband’s water bottle. There it sat, on the counter, so…ANNOYINGLY. I tell you, the thing was mocking me. (No, I don’t actually believe that. Don’t send the nurses with the straight-jacket). I wanted to hit it and would have enjoyed the sight of water splashing everywhere if I didn’t have to clean it up in the end.
Then there was the paperwork I couldn’t find, the boxes by my desk, the question someone asked. I ate an apple around 11:30 (just to sustain life; the thing tasted like sawdust) and the sound of my own chewing grated on my nerves.
It’s hot. I hate the heat. No lunch for me because eating has become a bad thing. Some people were talking politics.
My husband’s truck was parked in my spot when I got home.
And now the dogs are barking.
I know that I’m not actually angry. My body’s all whacko and that makes me want to scream, but there’s nobody and nothing to be mad at. I want the persistent cramp in my right foot to go away, the headache to stop and for my stomach to stay settled in its proper place. I want a night of decent, dreamless sleep. I want all the chemicals and hormones that are staging mosh pits throughout my body to calm the heck down.
Well, maybe I am mad. But it’s an odd, and certainly irrational, sort of emotion.
All day long the Spirit has been on me to keep my mouth shut, to breathe deeply and to focus on what’s true. He alone kept me from doing and saying things that would be entirely out of character and would have unpleasant consequences. It’s not been a perfect day and I’ve certainly been snappy, but it’s been a day when I’ve been steeped in the awareness of His presence. For that, I am profoundly grateful.
To read all the posts in The Detox Diaries series, go here.
I feel kind of guilty pressing the “like” button, because it implies I “like” your suffering, which of course, I don’t. I must say that your detox is fueling some of the best writing you’ve ever done (“I want all the chemicals and hormones that are staging mosh pits throughout my body to calm the heck down”). I know what it’s like to open a vein and bleed into my keyboard just to keep my head from exploding, though my motivation is more emotional than biochemical.
These days, I try to tone it down and stick to more spiritual or scholarly subjects (except for the blog post that’ll publish tomorrow morning at 10 because a verse in Luke triggered my “interfaith marriage” nerve).
May God grant you the rest and peace that you need. Sometimes, with all of the “noise” in life, the only time we hear Him is in the dark stillness of sleep. I hope He blesses you with that tonight.
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Psh. Don’t feel bad.
This comment of yours is extremely encouraging. I’ll take anything good that comes out of this, including better writing. I have less of a filter right now. Maybe I need to stick to that.
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been there…done that…. and lived to tell the tale. It always seems when we endure, the light at the other end is just that much brighter. Peace on the way.
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Amen, sister!
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